To the Edge and Back
by FrankieStrange
Summary: Tom helps out a woman by stopping her from jumping from her balcony window.


To The Edge And Back

GENRE: Dark/Angst/Friendship

FIC SUMMARY: Tom helps a troubled young woman by talking her out of jumping from the balcony of her hotel room.

RATING: M?

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Technically, I wrote this fic only for myself because it's quite personal (having to deal with difficult issues like depression, self harm etc.) I just felt like I needed to write this for myself because my depression has been worse recently to sort of help me. I only really submitted it in case it helped anyone, since I've seen some other similar stories on here which got a tonne of good responses. If you want to message me about the story, or just want to chat, please do! I don't bite. :)

**WARNING: This story is quite sad, so please don't read it if you might get upset easily as it contains certain triggers. (Self harm, depression, suicide)**

* * *

—- Monday —-

She didn't really know why she entered the competition in the first place. She had never won anything in her life, and she felt entirely sure that this would turn out exactly the same, but she did it anyway. Perhaps it was the idea of escaping everything back home that she found tempting. The idea of escaping into a world that she would never usually get to see. To be in such a luxurious room with a beautiful view of the city beneath it, and to have it all to herself. It didn't matter that it was a hotel room. She just wanted to escape.

"We're giving you the chance to win a two night break at the Goring Hotel in London!"

Smiling briefly at the thought of it, she pressed the Enter key, sighed, and thought nothing more about it.

—- Monday, two weeks later —-

It was a monday morning when the phone rang. She was asleep, and the buzzing woke her up. Her head heavy, and eyes still thick with sleep, she managed the energy to pick her phone up, squinting at the screen in the dimly lit room.

Unknown number.

She sighed and, still squinting, answered her phone. "…Hello?" She half whispered, half croaked. "Hello!" the man on the other end sounded horribly cheerful. "Is this Frankie? You've just won a weekend stay at the Goring Hotel!" Closing her eyes, she tried hard to think. What? Was this a joke? She almost ended the call until she remembered she had entered the competition a few weeks ago. "From the magazine?" she asked, her voice still husky from the last night's sleep. "Yes! Congratulations! We will need to email you all the details. Can I take your email address?" She thought hard again. It was too early in the morning for her. Hesitating for a few seconds, she replied with her email. "Thank you very much! Have a great weekend in the hotel!" He chirped, and with that, he was gone. She glanced briefly over to her alarm clock to see the time, squinting this time because she feared it was time to get up. 11:33 am. It was probably time. She sighed again, louder this time, and turned over to stare at the clock.

—- Friday —-

It took her hours to pack. She wanted to take her best clothes, simply because she never went out anywhere and never got to wear them. This weekend had to be perfect, and she wanted everything to be the complete opposite of what it usually was. Looking down at the clothes on the bed, she ran her fingers over one of the dresses she had picked. It was a black lacey dress with half sleeves and only just covered her knees. Staring at it lying there, she became frustrated with how big it looked. She admitted to herself that this was the best she could do, that these were her best clothes, and she looked away from the bed and into the mirror, asking herself why she was even bothering with them. They wouldn't look good on her anyway. Tears pricked into her eyes as she looked at herself standing there, and she turned back to the bed again. Taking in a deep breath of air, she quickly folded her clothes and put them into the bag that she had ready, along with jewelry, a sketchbook and some pencils. Placing the bag on the floor, she decided that it was probably time to sleep.

—- Saturday morning —-

She was shown to her room by a young man in a suit. It was so quiet and there seemed to be very few guests about, if at all. "You're on the top floor." The man said, looking down at her as they both got into the lift. She looked down to the nametag on his chest. 'Claude'. She smiled. It sounded so posh. "Thanks." Claude pressed a button on the side and the doors closed. There were mirrors on every wall on the inside, and it made her feel increasingly uncomfortable. "You won the competition, didn't you? Congratulations!" He smiled. "Yeah…Thanks". The lift slowed down again and stopped, letting in another smartly dressed member of staff. The lady smiled at them both and stepped in, her hands behind her back. She felt a pang of jealousy in her stomach as she looked away to the floor. I wish I looked like that, she thought. The doors closed again and the lift moved up one level. "Right, this is us!" Claude picked up her bag for her and stepped out of the lift, turning left down the hallway as she followed.

He stopped just outside a door near the end, then felt around in his pocket for the key. Unlocking and opening the door, he stepped in. He placed her bag on the bed and handed the key to her. "This is yours…and this." He turned to the chest of drawers next to the bed and picked up a leaflet, handing that to her as well. "This should cover everything regarding the meals in the restaurant downstairs and the bar. There's also a number for room services, should you require any. Would you like me to book you a table for tonight?" He asked. She hesitated. This weekend, she really just wanted to be alone. Blushing at the frightening thought of eating in a room with other people made her feel physically sick. She thought about the clothes she had packed and brought with her, comparing them to what she imagined the other people would be wearing and it made her feel worse. Claude saw her expression change, and added, "There is an in-room menu on your dresser if you would prefer to eat here" Her mood lightened and she replied, "Thank you…yes." sighing with relief. "That's quite alright. Is there anything else I can get you? Do you have any questions at all?" He smiled. "No, thank you." He smiled again and nodded, turning to walk out of the room, closing the door behind him.

—- Saturday evening —-

Sitting at the side of the bed, she stared at the menu and sighed. I'm not even hungry, she thought. Placing it back on the dresser, she looked around. Everything was so beautiful in here. She traced her foot along the patterns on the rug beneath her feet. It was a very large rug that covered most of the floor in the room. The bed was far larger than she was used to, and she leaned back to lie down on it. It was huge! She felt so tiny in it. Rolling over to her side, she stared at the picture that hung on the wall over the chest of drawers. It was a black and white painting of a ballerina, mid-leap. Her toes were pointed as she posed and it looked so elegant.

What am I even doing here all on my own? She thought. The answer to that question was that she simply had no one to come here with. She hadn't really spent any time with somebody else for a very long time. The sudden realisation of how alone she really was brought tears to her eyes, as she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She was sick of being alone. Wiping her tears away, she sat up and looked over to the window on the far side of the room. She needed some air.

—-

Stepping out onto the balcony, she exhaled at the feeling of the cold air against her skin. The city was so beautiful at night. She walked slowly forwards towards the handrail in front of her and looked around. Tiny blue and white lights dotted about below her. Some were cars, moving lights that trailed slowly across the roads beneath her. Some were static lights, those of apartments and bedrooms. There were flickering lights too, nightclubs and shop windows. The world was busy and going about at it's own fast pace. Her fingertips touched the rail and she held onto it to stop her hands from trembling. Yes, the world below her was going on as usual. Happy little people were going about their happy lives. She thought about the people below the hotel, watching the cars halt at a traffic light. These people are all so busy. They probably wouldn't even notice, she thought, as her tears started again and her breathing wavered. She was holding the railing even tighter now as she closed her eyes tilting her head up.

How far was it anyway, down there? The road. The pavement. She sniffed through her tears as she thought about lying on the pavement below the balcony and imagined the people's reactions to her body. Would they notice? Would they care? Yes, they would care. They would talk about how tragic it all had been that some girl had jumped from the hotel balcony. They would talk about it for a short while, it might even be on the news for a little bit, until the next story which would be far more important and interesting than her. Celebrities. Politics. She sniffed and opened her eyes to the world again and suddenly felt tiny and insignificant. None of this mattered at all, and everyone could cope perfectly fine if she wasn't here.

She stared down at the people and the lights for a long time, before taking in a deep breath and a lot of courage came with it. Tightening her grip, she used one of the metal swirls in the railing's pattern as a foothold and stepped up so that she was high enough to get one leg over, and then the other. She was standing on the other side of the railing now, on a narrow section of concrete. Her hands were shaking, and she wobbled a little, tightening her grip even more with her hands, fearing that she would slip or let go before she was quite ready to. She could see below the balcony more clearly now than before, as some of the view been obstructed by the concrete. Now the tips of her feet were over the edge of the balcony, and she shivered. She took in the view for a few more seconds, then closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Darling, what are you doing?" a man's voice from behind her spoke gently. It sounded concerned and a little afraid. She froze, her eyes still closed. It didn't register that the voice was talking to her, so she said nothing in reply and didn't move. "Please… don't jump." Her eyes opened quickly and she struggled to find her breath as she realised that whoever had spoken was in fact talking to her. She panicked a little and wobbled again as she suddenly felt herself snap back into reality. She had been alone with only her thoughts for company for so long that it startled her to hear another person's voice. Shifting her weight a little, she turned her head in the direction of the sound to see a man standing on the balcony of the room next to hers. Her vision was a little blurry from her tears, so she blinked them away and as things came into focus her mouth dropped open. The sudden realisation of who was actually standing there hit her hard in the chest and she felt winded. Her head dizzied and she felt sick. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak.

Tom. It was…Tom. Tom Hiddleston. Of all the people…she closed her mouth and blushed in embarrassment, looking at the floor, then back down to the pavement below her, searching for something, anything to say, but no words formed in her head, let alone her throat. She blinked in disbelief. Was this really happening?

"Can I…what's your name, sweetie?" His voice sounded more worried this time. The sound of quietly clinking metal made her look back at him and she watched him, still stunned and speechless. He was holding onto the railing on his own balcony, trying to figure out a way to get over to her, but the gap was too far, so he let go and stepped back again, still panicking and thinking. She caught her breath as she watched him. He…cares. He actually cares, Jesus…Her voice croaked. "Frankie…I'm Frankie", she whispered, looking up to his face and met his gaze. She felt dizzy again. "Right…Right. Frankie…" His voice trembled as he searched for something to say. "What's happened, Frankie? Why are you doing this?"

She turned her head back to face the city lights and closed her eyes as a million thoughts flooded into her head. Where do I even start? "I'm just sick of everything" She whispered. His eyes looked down to her dress and her arms. Noticing the marks and scars on her skin, he swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak again, when she spoke instead. "My head feels like it's screaming. I just want everything to stop, Tom." Realising she'd said his name, his heart missed a beat. It meant she knew who he was. He didn't mention it though. Not now. It wasn't the time or the place to question it. Calmly, he replied, "It will… I'm here. It's alright. …What's happened to make you so upset?" Her breathing wavered as tears pricked her eyes again. She didn't even know what to begin with, and her answer was all jumbled and out of order, but her desperation to get all the thoughts out of her head made her speak.

"Everyone that's ever stepped into my life has left me. My friends all became distant and stopped talking to me. I don't have friends anymore, really… I have no one. I'm so alone…Oh…God, I'm so alone." Her voice trembled as she took a deep breath, and then continued. "I'm sick of looking at my face in the mirror. I hate it. I look disgusting. I am sick of being so fucking fat and fucking…ugly. No one in their right mind could ever possibly want…me. …I am so so sorry that it had to be you that has to put up with me, Christ, I am so stupid…" Her voice trailed off into a whisper as she burst into tears and closed her eyes as the cold air brought goosebumps to her skin. Hearing her explaining how she felt broke his heart, and he said nothing for a few seconds, just watching her cry. "I'm not going to leave you." His voice cracked a little in his nervousness. "…and I can tell you now that you aren't any of those things" She sniffed. "You're not stupid. You're not fat, and you're certainly not -" She cut him off. "You're just saying that. I know you're…you're just saying that. None of it is true." Tom looked around again and thought about any possible way that he could get over to her. It would be impossible to do this from over here, on the next balcony. "Look, I'm still not going to leave you. Alright?" Trying to change the conversation's direction slightly, he asked, "Does anyone know you're here? Family, or…" She sighed. "Just you. God…why did it have to be you?" Turning back to look at him with tears in her eyes, she managed a weak smile. "I really am so sorry, Tom…I just can't…I can't do this anymore…" She closed her eyes and turned back to the city in below her.

This is it, he thought. She's going to jump. Panicking, he blurted out the first thing he could think of to give himself more time. "Is that the Smiths you're playing?" Her eyes opened. "Yes…Yes, I really love them." She managed another smile. "Which are your favourites then?" She frowned with slight confusion. "You like them?" She turned her head back to him and met his eyes again. The sadness in her eyes made his heart sink again, although she seemed a little more distracted. "Yes, of course." He lied. He hadn't really listened, he just wanted to get her talking. Tom smiled at her, and her cheeks flushed pink. "Hah, well…I love the song Asleep. I know it's Over…How Soon is Now." She smiled at her thoughts for a second as she remembered something, which in turn made Tom smile too. "You know there's a line in the song Unlovable that fits me well." She giggled. "It goes…Like…'If I seem a little strange, that's because I am. Haha…It's stupid…" Tom shook his head. "No…No, it's good. I'm sure the world would be very boring if we weren't all a little strange." They both smiled at each other.

"Do you like the Cure?" He asked. "Yes. Yes, they're good." He leant forwards onto the railing in front of him and rested his elbows on it, clearing his throat. Tom wanted to make her smile again and he felt like he was making some progress. He started to sing a couple of lines from Friday I'm In Love, and he felt ridiculous doing it but he did it anyway. "Dressed up to the eyes, it's a wonderful surprise… Ehehe" He giggled to himself before continuing. "To see your shoes…and your spirits rise" They both giggled together this time as his singing trailed off and he couldn't keep a straight face. His laughter slowed and calmed down into a smile, and he said "Smiling suits you, darling." to which she blushed and smiled further. "I…I wish there was a way I could come over there." he said, more seriously this time. She looked at him for a long time, hesitating, then realised something she hadn't done since coming into the room she was staying in. She whispered, "I…didn't lock the door…" He studied her face searching for a reason to ask to enter her room without bringing up the current situation. "Are those iPod speakers?" He asked. "Yeah…" Tom smiled. "Do you mind if I show you some music? Can I…come in?" She looked a little confused. "It's alright…I'm not going to do anything, sweetie." She took a deep breath. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to. Alright?" She nodded again and smiled weakly at him, nodding.

"I'll…just get my iPod." Tom smiled at her, then turned away and back into his room. He was absolutely terrified that she would jump, so he moved as quickly as possible. For a little reassurance, he called out to her. He wanted to make sure that she wasn't alone for any longer than she needed to be. "I promise I won't sing again!" He heard her giggle from outside as he found his ipod and headed for the door to his room. He was practically running, and his heart was pounding hard in his chest. Her door was unlocked, just as she said it was, and he closed the door behind him, finding her standing in the same place as before. He sighed with relief. "Hey." He spoke softly as he paused the music on the speakers. "Hey." she replied. "So. Bon Iver?" He asked, pressing play on the song Can't Make You Love Me. "I've not really listened to him before. I keep meaning to…" She replied, smiling and looking back down at the world below her. Tom said nothing for a few seconds, but walked a little closer to her. "Do you like it?" He took another step closer to her, and the floor creaked. He cringed, hoping it hadn't worried or startled her that he was standing closer, but she seemed to be alright with it. "Yeah, it's lovely, Tom."

"I'm glad you like it." He smiled."The view is breathtaking, isn't it?" Stepping closer again, he was now right behind her. "…Yeah.." She turned her head slightly to see how close he was and as she realised, her heart fluttered. "It's…It's alright, Frankie. I'm right here." She looked into his eyes, blinking, and smiled faintly. Tom reached out his hands slowly to touch the railing behind her and she looked back down. "Do you see that blue light over there, just above the traffic lights?" He was so close to her now that he could smell the sweet shampoo on her hair. "Where? …Oh, yes, I think I see it, yeah…" He looked down at the proximity between his hand and hers on the railing. "There's a cafe down there, called Frankie's." She laughed a little and it faded as he brushed his fingers against her arm. She bit her lip. He could feel the scars, the uneven but smooth warmth of her skin, and she closed her eyes. "Do you want to come back inside?" He feared that asking her might have the adverse effect, but he chanced it. She seemed and sounded happier than before, and she had stopped crying. Saying nothing, she turned her head back to look at him and smiled again. Tom's hand moved down to touch hers, and held it. "It's alright, I've got you." She shifted her weight and managed to move and face sideways. "Hold my hands…that's it…" She slowly moved both hands, one at a time so as not to lose her grip, and locked her fingers with his. Carefully, she managed to lift up one leg onto one of the railing's swirls, just as she had done to get over to the side she was on and used it to lift herself up and over.

Stepping down onto the floor on the safe side of the balcony, she let go of Tom's hands and stepped forwards to hug him. Her breathing wavered as she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Sinking into him, she pressed her face into his chest, feeling herself let go of everything and breaking into tears as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Tom, I'm so sorry" She sniffed. He moved up his hand to stroke her hair. "It's alright, darling…It's alright." She struggled to breathe because of how hard she was crying. She didn't remember ever crying this hard before. She had cried a lot, but she never had never this much. Suddenly she realised how close she had come to ending everything, and how kind, patient and calm Tom had been and she held him tighter, not wanting to let go. They stayed there embracing on the balcony for a long time, and as her tears subsided a little, she pulled away and looked up at him, sniffing. "C'mon." Tom smiled. "Let's go inside."

His arm reached over and around her shoulder as he led her back into the hotel room. He stopped and turned to close the sliding glass door to the balcony, locked it and put the key in his pocket. She took out a tissue from the box on the table below the mirror, and looked at herself, wiping away the tears and fixing her makeup a little. She had entirely forgotten that she was wearing makeup, and her eyeliner and mascara had formed grey lines down her face as she cried. Wiping them away as best she could, she turned back to the room, scrunching up the tissue and sighing. Tom was sitting on the edge of the bed with her sketch book in his hands and he looked up at her. "These are great, Frankie. Really…" He turned the pages slowly, smiling, and as she sat down next to him, he placed his arm around her, pulling her closer. "Thank you" She replied, smiling and still sniffing. "You're quite the artist!" She fiddled with the fabric of her dress. "That's my dream, actually." He looked up. "To be an artist…I'd…really love that." Tom closed the book and set it down on the bed beside him. "I don't think you'd have to try very hard." She leant over and rested her head on his shoulder.

Tom made her smile and laugh, which she hadn't done for a very long time. She didn't feel alone. She didn't feel ugly or ashamed. She didn't feel stupid or insignificant. For the first time in a long while, she felt loved. They sat there talking for hours. About music, films, books and all kinds of things.

"Here." Tom picked up the leaflet on the dresser and turned it over. He felt in his pocket for a pen, and started writing in a blank section at the bottom. He handed it to her, and she looked confused. It had his phone number on it. "If you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, please. Call me. Alright?" She took the paper and stared at it in disbelief, then looked back at him. "Are…are you sure, Tom?" He laughed. "Ehehe, I wouldn't have given you my number if I didn't mean it. You can call me whenever you want, okay darling?" She blushed and smiled. "Thank you, Tom. Not just for this, I mean…for…everything. For tonight. You…You saved my life tonight…and I…still can't believe that it's actually…You." He smiled, and thought for a second. "Fortune brings in some boats that aren't steered." She frowned in confusion. "Shakespeare…It means…Sometimes luck just has a way of finding you…Besides…You made the decision not to jump." as she thought about it, he hugged her again. "I made the decision to jump, Tom, and you helped me to change my mind." He smiled at her, not really knowing what to say in response.

Placing his hand on her arm, he said, "You take care of yourself, Frankie. Please, don't forget what I said, about my number?" He stood up. "I'll call you" She replied, quietly. "It's 4am. And you know I'm right next door." She stood up too, and hugged him again. "Yes. Thank you…so much" Tom turned kissed her forehead, and reluctantly pulled away from the hug. "I'm glad you changed your mind." He turned to walk out of the room, when she stopped him. "Your iPod, Tom." He gasped, then laughed as he realised he'd left it playing on her speakers. "Oh yes! Right, yes. Thanks, ehehe" He paused the music on his iPod, then picked it up, putting it in his pocket. He turned to walk out, opened the door and paused. "Goodnight, Frankie." She walked over to him. "Night, Tom." They both smiled at each other, then he stepped out into the hallway and back towards his room. "And um, lock your door, alright?"


End file.
